Notsocarefree Denmark
by kagayaspirits
Summary: Sometimes, things aren't the same as they seem to be. Norway understands this more than anyone else. Doesn't he?


First time trying to poke at the Nordic world. Was greatly inspired after reading a DenNor doujinshi, they can be so adorable together! I aimed to create a rather OOC Norway and Denmark, and I guess I was successful? Anyway, no complaining about them being not-so-normal. By the way, there's crying!Norway and scary!Denmark ^_^

*******

People said that they were the most mismatched couple of them all. A stern-faced, slim-bodied cutie with an all-tall-and-muscular and stupid-looking guy. Certainly not the best match in the world.  
Whenever Denmark heard people saying so, he just turned to Norway, placed an arm around his waist with a trademark stupid grin. "Look, Norway, they're jealous of us!"  
Norway would walk out of that half-embrace, leaving a dumbfounded, still-grinning Denmark on the street. He would keep on walking as Denmark whined and called for him to wait up, he would throw a "Too annoying!" behind his back, right into Denmark's face.  
He would pretend he didn't hear what they said behind his back. He would pretend he didn't hear Denmark reassuring him. He would pretend that nothing wrong was going on.  
He would wish that everything was as fine as it seemed.

*******

Denmark was kind. He was very very kind. He was always smiling, always grinning, always trying to hug Norway from out of nowhere, always wanting to give Norway a welcoming kiss and another kiss when they depart. He always wanted to wrap his left arm around Norway's waist, "to keep Norway as close to my heart as possible", always wanted to kiss Norway when no one was looking, to have Norway kissed him when no one was around.  
He always wanted to invite Norway home for homemade dinner, then hot chocolate, then careful and loving sex. Denmark always treasured him, like he was a fragile porcelain doll that could break if he put him just a bit under pressure, like he was an albino rabbit, so cute and attention-loving that if he ignored him for too long, the rabbit'd die.  
Denmark would never, ever hurt him. That was what everyone thought. That was what Norway thought.

Norway, away from his fantasy, knew the reality.  
Denmark, once in a while, after a hard working day, would ask him to come over, like the usual. That was nothing new.  
Denmark would cook dinner in the blue apron which was supposed to be Iceland's joke-gift, while he sat in the living room reading magazines. That was nothing new.  
They would have dinner with candles and roses and Denmark looking a bit tense. That was nothing new.  
When they were cleaning up the dishes, Denmark would suddenly wrap an arm around his body and refuse to let go, no matter how much he struggled. The hold was a bit tighter than usual.  
When Denmark kissed him hard and slammed him onto the wall, which hurt and gave him a lump on the head, that was not normal.  
When Denmark picked him up from the floor, while their lips were still connecting, carried him into the bedroom and harshly threw him onto the sheets and looked at him with wolf-like eyes, that was not normal.  
When Denmark pinned him down on the mattress with more force than usual, when Denmark bit him so hard on the lips that it bled, when Denmark tore off his clothes like a beast, Norway was frightened. That was not his Denmark.  
When Denmark ignored all manners about foreplay and such and push into him without warning and made him cry, Norway screamed out.  
That was not his Denmark. Not his Denmark.  
His Denmark wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't scare him, wouldn't act so differently.  
He was not the one thrushing into his body like this, biting his neck til it bruised up like this. This person, this stranger, who was fucking him hard in this so well-known bedroom, wasn't the same person who blushed at a mere "I love you" blown into the ear.  
Once, Norway woke up from the stinging pain and bleeding lips to find an all-awake Denmark. He secretly watched from behind the pillows at a strangely quiet, strangely serious Denmark, sitting with a leg up at his chest, eyes staring out into the quiet space outside the balcony. And he sat like that for hours.  
Norway didn't know what to do to this Denmark. He didn't know him anymore.

He'd soon regret thinking what he thought.  
For when Denmark finally slipped under the cover next to Norway, when Norway finally decided to give him another "Annoying Anko", he was suddenly pull into Denmark. Arms behind his back, warm chest slamming into his, quick breath above his ears.  
He wanted to tell Denmark that the hold was too tight, it was suffocating him.  
He wanted to tell Denmark that he had better not thinking for another round, cos his ass hurt like hell, damn it you beast.  
He wanted to tell Denmark to stop crying, the tears were wetting his hair and it felt weird, and don't behave so strangely like this, we could work things out.  
He wanted to say that he wanted to hold Denmark close too, if only his arms were free from the embrace.  
But all thoughts were blocked when he heard Denmark's voice hanging above his head. The word Denmark kept on chanting that whole night tore him into pieces.

"Sweden…"

*******

When a blushing Denmark held out his hand to him, mouthing a soundless "I love you", he suddenly looked so small and pathetic.  
Norway replied with a square look at the other man, mumbling a usual "Annoying", but put his small hand into the offering hand anyway.  
And he smiled.  
That was the first time that he ever felt so happy that he could burst into tears.  
It was many years ago.

Sometimes, Norway cried himself to sleep while thinking of that funny face Denmark made that day.  
Just when did that innocent face go?

*******

Once in a while, when Denmark was back to his goofy-and-carefree self, they would go out on a date when it's cloudy and cool.  
Denmark would hang his arm somewhere around Norway's, trying to take a hold of his hand while pretending that he wasn't. When their hands finally met each other, Denmark would make a grin that he thought Norway couldn't see –which was so silly of him, since Norway knew it all- and held that other hand tight. Sometimes, he squeezed that hand a little, transferring the warmth on his hand to Norway's. Sometimes, the fingers were intertwined. And Norway would be in a strangely good mood for the whole day.  
But then again, they were not the only lovey-dovey couple in the Nordic world. Therefore, sometimes they bumped into Sweden's family.

Sealand, who was chatting to his 'mother', would stop half-way and ran over to Norway and greeted him sweetly.  
Finland, who walked just behind little Sealand, would smiled to the couple and exchanged greetings with Norway, his smile activated all the time.  
Norway would nod his head and talked a little to Finland. One, Finland and Sealand were nice people and it was rude to ignore your neighbour. Two, their family always remember to make extra cookies and send them over to Norway's place.  
Three, he needed something to distract himself from watching the so-called brothers.  
Denmark and Sweden would glare into the other's eyes with scary-looking faces and throw at each other what you call 'greeting words', but they were more like curses stuffed into hellos and how-are-yous. The longer Finland and Sealand chatted to Norway, the more cursing the brothers gave each other.  
Then, all of the sudden, Denmark would throw an arm over Norway's waist and pull him over into his chest, holding him so close that it hurt, then started to kiss and abuse his earlobes. Denmark would look at Sweden with challenging eyes while nibbling on the white skin, until Finland finally decided that the scene was getting too much extreme and not suitable for Sealand and excused themselves.  
As the family walked away with a shocked-looking Sealand, Denmark released his hold on Norway. Norway would blink, then sigh quietly as a Denmark looking out to a faraway Sweden.

*******

"Denmark."  
"Hmmmmmmm? You're not asleep yet, Nor?"  
"Do you love me?"  
"Mmmmmhmmmmmm… Let's go to bed, Nor, I'm sleeeeepeeeyyyy!!"  
"Do you love me?"  
"Didn't I just tell you so? You're acting funny."  
"Do you love me?"  
"Hey Nor, are you mad at me or something? What's wrong?"  
"I asked: Do you love me?"  
Pull. Grip. Kiss.  
"Of course I love you, Nor."  
That was when Denmark was his normal self.

"Denmark. Do you love me?"  
"You're mine!"  
"Do you love me?"  
"Norway, you are mine. You are forever mine."  
"Do you love me?"  
"Don't ever think about escaping from me. You belong to me only, you are to stay here with me until the day you cease to exist. You are mine!"  
"Do you love me?"  
"Cut it out, Norway!"  
"Do you love me?"

"Do you?"

*******

One day, Norway came across Denmark's forgotten wallet on the coffee table.  
Inside was an old picture of a grinning young Denmark putting his arm around a frowning Sweden's shoulder.  
The paper was dirty and yellow-ish and full of fingerprints.

Denmark. Sweden. Denmark. Norway. Denmark. Sweden. Sweden.  
What if everything about Denmark's infamous hatred for Sweden was all a fake?  
What if Denmark had never really detest Sweden?  
What if Denmark looked at this picture every night before bed, fingers trailing on the frame of Sweden's face and smiled sadly?  
What if Denmark thought of Sweden when they were dating? What if Denmark saw Sweden's face when they had dinner together, when they washed the dishes, when they watched a late TV show?  
What if Denmark masturbated and shouted Sweden's name when he reached his climax?  
What if Denmark saw Sweden in Norway when they had sex?  
What if Denmark was in love with Sweden all this time?  
What if Norway was just a replacement?  
What if the confessing Denmark said that day was supposed to be for Sweden all along?

What if it was all true?  
Then, what would Norway do?

*******

Norway knocked on Denmark's door. Denmark invited him over for a snack at four. But fifteen minutes had passed and seemed like no one was home. So Norway got in with his spare key.  
Norway slumped down onto the couch and turned on the TV. The show was boring so he reached for the remote control.  
The remote control was on the coffee table. A piece of note paper was under it.  
Norway picked the paper up. The lines on it were rather like scribbles, with rough style, like that of Denmark's.  
"Sweden's place 3pm."  
It was five.  
Now Norway knew why the house was empty.

"Nor…"  
Who's calling?  
"Nor, wake up."  
Leave me alone. I don't want to wake up anymore. What's the point in waking up to an empty house?  
"Nor, your head's burning."  
Huh, who's there? What are you doing, picking me up? Put me down.  
"Here, stay still on the bed, I'll get some towels and medicine. Just rest, Nor."  
Towels and medicine? But I feel fine. You're just too worrying, too kind, like him, he was really kind to me too…  
"Here you go, cool towels!"  
"Denmark…"

"I'm here, Norway."

*******

Stop being kind to me and pretend like you care.  
Stop being nice to me and make me think that it is all true.  
Stop holding my hands and make my heart beats faster.  
Stop embracing me and make my legs go weak.  
Stop kissing me and make me melt into your mouth.  
Stop caressing me and make me cry with bliss.  
Stop saying that you love me and make me think that you really mean it.  
Stop drowning me in this blinding sea.  
Stop making me fall in love with you.  
Stop, please stop. It is already enough.

*******

His body felt warm and his toes felt cold. His nose was stuffed with a very familiar scent. His ears tickled with short breaths. His forehead felt like hair was poking at it. His left side felt a bit pressured, like someone was having their arm thrown over his body. His fingers were hot, binding with those that belonged to another hand. His legs wrapped around someone's thighs, the fabric of the trousers rubbing at his bare legs.  
"You're finally awake, Nor."  
And Norway started crying.

A hand lifted his head up, thumbs tracing the tears on his cheeks. "What's wrong Nor?"  
His arms swiftly circled around the other's body, fingers gripping at the back of the wrinkled shirt, bodies pressed close together. "Don't leave me."  
The thumbs stopped wiping the tears. "Huh?"  
His arms held tighter, his head dropped onto the other's chest, spilling teardrops onto the front shirt. "Don't leave me."  
A hand pat softly on his back, the other slipped into his hair. "What makes you think that I'm gonna leave you anyway?"  
The shirt in front of him was getting damp. "Don't leave me for Sweden."  
Chuckled. He let his embrace loose a little and looked up at a smiling Denmark.  
"To think that I was just thinking the very same thing about you."  
What?  
"Hey Nor, I'm sorry for what happened lately. I know that I was acting strange, that I was violent and scary, that I hurt you and make you cry. I'm sorry Nor, I really am sorry."  
"It's just that, everytime I see Sweden, it kept reminding me of how he and Finland decided to leave me. He was my brother and I thought living with him was of no question. I thought that it was bare fact that we would stay together as family forever. I didn't think that there'd be a day when they wanted to get independent from me. I didn't think that they'd be willing to leave me, to run away without a single word."  
"It was scary, being on your own. It was lonely, it was cold, it was lifeless. So when I met you, Norway, I was afraid. I couldn't imagine the day that you too would choose to leave me, would want to be free from me. I was depressed about Sweden, but you, Norway, is another matter. There's no way that I could tolerate losing you. So, when I confessed to you and you accepted my hand, I told myself, there's no way I'm gonna let him go. He's mine only."  
"But recently, you started hanging around with Sweden and Finland. It frightened me, thinking that one day you would realize that it was no fun to be with me, that it was a wrong decision to be with me, that you wish to leave and never to return."  
"I'm sorry for everything I've done to you. I must have hurt you a lot, I must have made you cry a lot, made you suffer a lot. I'm really sorry, Norway."  
"But please, don't leave me."

"I won't leave you."  
"Nor?"  
"I will never ever leave you, Denmark."  
"Norway…"  
Quiet breathing. Soft snoring.  
"Thank you, Norway…"

*******

"Wait………….."  
"Hm?"  
"So all my crying and begging earlier was all because I misunderstood the situation?"  
"That's pretty much what it is."  
"Damn it…"  
"By the way Norway, that must be the first time you acted so sweet and cute and reserved. You're too cute, Nor!"  
Wack on the head.  
"Annoying Anko."

Hands.  
Gripping.  
Intertwining.  
Squeezing.  
Smiling.


End file.
